


After the storm

by imsfire



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Bed-sharing, Cassian's POV, F/M, First Kiss, Hoth is Cold, Love Confessions, Pining, RebelCaptain Secret Valentine, all the feels, angst feels and fluff, implied mutual pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 14:29:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13683582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imsfire/pseuds/imsfire
Summary: A power failure in the east bunker sends Jyn looking for somewhere to sleep; she goes the only place she can, to someone she trusts...





	After the storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thereigning_lorelai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thereigning_lorelai/gifts).



> A Secret Valentine for tumblr user thereigning-lorelei.
> 
> The prompt was "person A realizing that they were just kind of joking when they kissed B but then holy shit do they ever get sucked into it and when A finally pulls back they are absolutely stunned by B" (preferably pre-relationship - who's person A or B is up to you". I haven't quite stuck to the prompt in every detail and I'm afraid there's a good deal of angsty pining to start with, but I hope the end will make up for that!
> 
> I think this may be my first bed-sharing fic; which is odd, given it's one of my favourite tropes to read!

Hoth is uninhabitable, everyone knows that.  The Anoat sector as a whole isn’t exactly welcoming, and as for this ice-ball – well, the atmosphere is breathable but that’s about the only good thing you can say for it.  Pretty much everything else about the Force-forsaken hole is inimical to organic life.  Average temperatures of -35 degrees, dropping to -60 at night, all surface water bound up in solid ice, and weeklong blizzards with wind speeds upwards of 120 miles an hour. 

Every storm seems to do some kind of damage to the newly-excavated Echo Base.  Denting the outer hangar doors, ripping apart entire artillery emplacements, burying emergency exits under metres of snow.  Triggering power outages. 

It’s secret, and it’s safe, but it’s hell.  Even most of the cold-world natives hate the place. 

Cassian has been telling himself _It’s not that bad, it’s not that bad,_ ever since he got here.  Winters at home were much the same, and he’s never minded the cold, not since childhood.  But childhood and home are a long time ago, and Hoth is – Hoth is _extreme_. 

 _It’s not that bad.  Pull yourself together, Andor._   

He’s been here for almost two months.  Jyn is here too, has been on base longer than him.  More personnel arrive each week, as the construction proceeds.  Echo Base should be fully operational before the year’s out.  Operational, that is, except for when the power goes.

He wakes to the sound of his door opening; wakes and sits up, a single moment taking him into high alert, a single movement sweeping up his blaster from under the pillow and bringing it to bear on the doorway.  All he can make out is a silhouette against the faint backlighting from the passageway; but it’s familiar, and dearly so.  He lowers the weapon instantly. 

“Jyn?”

He doesn’t need to hear the confirmation, but she gives it anyway.  “Yeah.  Power failure in the east bunker.  Barracks is evacuated.  Can I sleep in your chair?”

They’ve slept in the same space more than once; on missions, in med-bays, and that first, impossible and impossibly precious time, burned and bleeding, huddled together on a cold shuttle deck fleeing the wreckage of Scarif.  They’ve been so close that leaving one another’s side was terrifying; and then left one another anyway.  But then, in the aftermath of that day and that fear, as he laboured to prove himself still trustworthy and she threw herself into the commitment she’d craved and denied craving for so long, something like a glass came down between them.  There’s more than the gap between med-bay beds keeping them apart now.

Cassian has no idea how to cross this space; has never, in all his twenty-eight years, known how people do it.  How they want it, even.  It’s a void as featureless and frightening as the black between atmo and hyperspace, and it’s a mystery to him; and he’s been caught there in the dark ever since the first time he realised he wanted to kiss her, and then didn’t do it.

That elevator.  They were going down to their deaths.  She’d trusted him to let her face it without breaking down.  He couldn’t break that trust.  Couldn’t do anything that might hurt her, not then, after everything they’d had to break to reach one another, everything they’d gone through for one another; everything it had cost to finish their mission. 

 _She has to ask permission, even to sleep in the chair_ , he thinks now.  It seems as bitter and as sad as the storm howling outside, remembering there was a trust between them once that precluded such things.  “The chair?  Of course – but –“ He trusts her too.  It’s as frigid cold as Hoth’s nights get, the blizzard painting his tiny eyelet of a window solid white.  He takes a quick breath of the glacial air and says “Jyn, there’s room in the bed, it’s much warmer…” Shifts himself back, till he’s lying right against the insulated wall panel.  “If you want?”

They have slept side by side before.  He can only ask, now, and let her choose if she still wants that trust.  And accept her choice. 

The door has slid shut behind her and at first Jyn is a presence more heard than visible.  He recognises the rustle of the rip-stop outer shell of her coat.  She must have pulled her parka on to come out looking for somewhere to sleep.  She moves forward a couple of steps. 

If he reaches for her, she may not want his hand’s touch.  If he does not, his coldness may sting more than the frost in the air.  It’s hurt him already, this pane of ice that he doesn’t know how to break.  He can’t bear it, if it hurts her also; but has no idea what to say or do, how to find out what she needs.  He can only trust and hope. 

She sighs, and the sound wings straight to his heart. 

He draws a breath and says again “If you want” and then “It’s not a problem.”

Even to say that much feels forward to the point of offence. 

All he can see of her is a shadow in the shadows.  Cautious but steady, moving forward the three paces it takes to reach the bed; the mattress settles as she sits, and he feels the covers pull down on his legs.  She murmurs “Thanks” and then, hesitating “If you’re sure?”

Cassian nods; makes himself say it aloud.  “Of course.”

She’s bending to unlace her boots and tuck them under the desk, next to his.  Not exactly tidily, he’s sure, he knows even without being able to see that they won’t be lined-up military fashion like his; but neatly in place just the same.  Jyn is never careless with her kit and her few possessions, always puts things where they will be safe and quick to hand.  She rustles her coat off and shakes it out carefully, spreads it across the foot of the bed like an extra blanket.  “Really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.”  She is; always, to this and anything else that’s within his gift.  If only he knew how to tell her.

Words are one of his strengths, when he needs to lie and persuade and bring people on board.  Not so much when he has to tell only the truth.  When he has to be open and vulnerable in that honesty, wide open like another set of hangar doors to whatever wild things will sweep in from the storm. 

He draws the covers aside quickly and she climbs into the bed beside him, curling up and huddling down on her side, lying with her back towards him.  When he draws the bedding back she grabs it and pulls it right up to her nose.  She wriggles to get comfortable; wriggles again, to pull out her hair tie and roughly loosen her hair from its usual knot.   Wriggles, and sighs contentedly, a little _mmm_ of weariness and relief.  Next to him; Jyn, next to him.

_Jyn, Jyn, Jyn…_

She’s brought in a little momentary aura of outdoors, the air from the corridor that always tastes of frost and silence here.  Against the white pillow her hair is a dark organic shape, like a tangled blot of night spilling into his space.  When he lets himself touch a lock, it’s chilly under his fingers.

He remembers the colour.  Remembers her standing next to him on the ice plateau, when he first arrived here from assignment and found her already in the new base.  Her pale skin flushed rosy, eyes sparkling, bright from the cold; strands of chestnut hair peeping under her hood.  She was grinning as she walked over and stood looking up at him.  _Hello, Cassian, I’m glad to see you._

_Likewise.  Always._

Red, red lips, smiling, so warm in the white cold of the world. 

Lips that are now framing another mutter of satisfaction.  “Mmm, this is so cosy.  Like a cocoon.  I owe you one.  Passages are kriffing cold tonight.”

“You couldn’t have slept in a passage.”

“Thought of heading to Command.  Find something to do, keep myself awake.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.  You need your sleep.”

“So do you.  I’m sorry about waking you.”

“Not a problem.  Always wake me.”

She always does, from the very start.  She woke his heart when it had almost suffocated under too much self-knowledge.  Reminded him that even the most compromised person has good to offer, still, and reason to hope for themselves as well as for what they can do for others.  Reason to live, as well as reason to sacrifice their life.

It’s been a while since their last mission together.  More than two years since she crawled off a hover-dolly in Home One’s med-bay to drag herself to his side and watch over his intubated, immobilised self; and hold his hand when he woke struggling in panic, and as he allowed himself to fall asleep once more.  He’d woken the second time to see her right there; the healing scars on her face, her closed eyes and the shadows encircling them.  Her right hand, curled loosely round his.  Had lain there staring while his mind sang _alive alive alive!_ in a dazed hum of astonishment.  And when the news came, the victory they’d risked everything for, he’d been able to close his eyes in trust that she wouldn’t go, that she’d still be there, alive and ready to stay, when he woke again.  They’d slept the sleep of the exhausted, side by side, the days and nights after.

And now she’s right next to him again, no longer moving about, already breathing slow; and he’s trembling at her nearness. 

The air under the covers is growing warmer, body heat overcoming the superficial chill and spreading into the layers above, the spaces between.  Jyn’s breathing is steady.  She must be asleep, there’s a stillness radiating from her, a peace he’s dreamed of touching all his life.

He aches to hold her, and fights it with every part of him that can rationalise. 

_Unlikely I’ll sleep now._

And yet he does, without seeing it coming, without hearing or feeling its approach in the dark and the noise of the storm.  He only believes it when waking shows him daylight, and Jyn still beside him. 

She’s facing him now, one hand curled small in front of her face and her forehead almost touching his shoulder.  He can feel her breath, fine tendrils on the exposed skin at his neck; and it is gentle and trusting. 

He’s slept better and more deeply, more dreamlessly, than in months. 

Her chestnut hair is all tangled and mussed.  Something is pressing against one of his legs, and he thinks in a slow wave of shock that it might be her knee.

Seeing her safe and at peace in the pale morning light is as precious as any hope he’s ever had for himself.

The storm wind has eased.  Maybe the east bunker will have power again by now.

_Maybe I’ve been a fool never to tell you the truth.  But I don’t know how to.  Not then, not now.  And I will not risk hurting you, and I will not risk your friendship.  Not then and not now._

“Mmmmph, mmm,” Jyn says under her breath, and her eyes open wide.  Immediately and brilliantly awake, just as he’s thinking _Oh Force, no, did I just say that aloud?_   She blinks at him and he can feel the slight tension in her body come and then go again, as she springs from sleep straight to momentary full alert, and then relaxes again. 

“Good morning,” she murmurs.  A tiny smile; it’s barely there, though it reaches her eyes.  He can’t tell if it’s more embarrassment or shyness.  Even to see her smile from this close-to is a pleasure his heart had never expected.  “Thanks for letting me stay.”

“Good morning.  Not a problem.  Did you sleep well?”

He thinks she did; but perhaps she woke as soon as he’d nodded off, perhaps she’s lain for hours staring into the grey field of her own night vision and listening to his breath, his dreams, the sounds of a stranger whose bed she shares. 

“Like a stone.  Best I’ve slept in ages.  We should do this more often – _oh!_ I mean – I meant –“

A rose-petal blush floods up through her face and down into her neck.  She really didn’t mean to say that, she’s starting to laugh at herself already, turning her face down, curling in on herself.

 _Self-conscious_ , he thinks, _I make her self-conscious._  

He pulls his legs back against the wall, hating this awkward skinny-yet-too-large body of his that intrudes upon her, trying to cram himself out of her space.  “It’s okay, it’s alright, Jyn, I’m sorry –“

“No, It’s okay, I’m sorry, Cassian, I didn’t mean to –“ Jyn is rigid and he can see, can feel, how she makes herself go still, makes herself relax once more, how she’s trying to smile again, trying to lighten the moment that slammed down between them, trying to make it a joke.  “It’s okay.” 

She sounds unhappy, despite the reassuring words.  He can feel how frozen his face is, despite the warmth under the covers. 

Hoth in his blood and on his skin ( _you cold-world native, you Festi son, you’ll never be one of the warm ones, Andor, it’s not that bad, pull yourself together_ ).  Hoth in his hands, bunched into fists and held tight against his ribcage.   _I must not touch her I must not impinge on her space her autonomy I love her too much to lose her now…_

“Oh Cassian,” she says.  The imposed humour fighting its way to the top now.  “I’m sorry, I’ve made you uncomfortable.  Shh, it was just a silly remark, look, see, just a –just a joke –“

He wants to howl.  Silences it, silences even his breath, holding everything back so hard his bones hurt.  Jyn looks so tense, under the new smile that isn’t the same as the waking one.

She says, quiet and dismissive suddenly, as if she’s given up on something “The hells with it.”  And pushes herself up, fast and light, to press a quick, firm kiss against his cheek.  “There.  Look.  I know you don’t – it’s okay.  No hard feelings, please?  I’ll go.”

“No – no, please –“ Krif, what?  He’s saying _that_ to her?  But it just came out, his silence snapped like a sheet of too-thin ice.  “Jyn…”  There’s something hot on his face, and it’s not breath, it’s in his eyes, welling out, _damn it, kriffing **what** \- I can’t do this I can’t let her see this no nonono_

He clenches his eyes shut.  The single tear he was too late to crush slides out, onto the bridge of his nose.  His whole face is suddenly scrunched up and painful, ugly as a squashed cabbage, and he’d like to bury himself under a mile of snow, under the deepest glacier on Hoth. 

_For shame, for shame, call yourself a spy?_

“Cassian?” It’s a tiny sound.  Her voice astonished.

“I’m sorry,” Cassian whispers.

“But - Cassian – _Cassian!”_

A sudden rush of warmth on his skin, and her lips touch him.  The barest, faintest brush, this time, but unmistakable.  She hesitates away again almost before he can register that this kiss wasn’t the same _faking-or-joking-or-oh-krif-it_ as the last one, this was – this – and instinctively he turns his head towards her a fraction, hoping, desperate, because if he can just touch her again, maybe, maybe –

Her lips are less than a centimetre away, they make contact again, almost shivering; her breath on his skin is so warm, so soft; his own breath suddenly thunderous, fast as a storm wind.  Blood roaring in his ears.  Another, tiny, terrified kiss, and another, incredulous, _she’s kissing me I’m kissing her Jyn_ _mi cariño, mi preciosa, Jyn…_

Neither of them speaks yet around them is a tiny storm of noise; the infinitesimal sounds of fabric shifting, pillows rustling; and two sets of breath panting; and the brush of dry lips meeting.  He can hear the tiny scratchy press of his beard against her chin.  Can almost hear her eyelashes.  Skin sounds different to sheeting when it touches his sleep clothes; and the rub of an arm round his shoulders, a hand bunching  his thermal shirt, are sounds and sensations entirely new.  The breathless gasp of lips touching and parting and seeking one another again, gasping again; then the breath slowing, near-stopping altogether, all time seeming to run slow as her mouth opens on his.  He imagines he’s falling into her; falling into a supernova, a new kind of death, better and more beautiful even than the one they missed together.  Tongues meet, very slow, very gentle.  Then eager.  Jyn’s tense strong self, beside him, pressing forward as always, surging on against the pressure of fear; then suddenly going soft, the firm hands’-grip gentling.  Wide open to him, and so tender.  So trusting.

Long, long timeless time, and her mouth on his, sweetness beyond anything he’s been able to comprehend.

Their lips part at last and they are both out of breath; and tiny and fragile and joyful, Jyn begins to laugh.  “Oh, my dear, oh Cassian, Cassian!”

He cannot believe this, but he must.  She’s holding him pulled hard against her body, has one leg wrapped round his, one arm clinging while the other is crammed in tight between them so that she can stroke his cheek, touch his moustache, his lips.  He cannot believe it; a smile of shaking happiness takes over all his thoughts.  It’s morning and – it’s Jyn – and his voice is a shocked whisper of happiness saying “Cariño, querida, preciosa, mi amor –“

“Te quiero tanto,” she says softly. “Is that right?  Te – te amo tanto –“

“ _I love you so much_.  Jyn.  Oh my dear, my Jyn…”

And what had that first kiss been – what?  A joke?  A defiance?  Maybe one day he’ll be able to ask her.  But for now -

_Defy everything, take the next chance, and live._

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Cassian says “Yes, te amo, that’s right, that’s how you say it.  Te amo también.  Oh, Jyn, Jyn, my dearest…”

They lie kissing, laughing, smiling, warm and safe in one another’s arms, and the morning light strengthens slowly in the aftermath of the storm. 


End file.
